One Night
by MadiWillow
Summary: He didn't mean to. It was an accident. All he did was have one drink. How was he supposed to know that this would happen? OneShot. Contains graphic content. TxG


**AN:** I forgot how I came up with this, but it was last night and I was bored and didn't want to study for finals so I decided to write it. Enjoy.

**Title:** _One Night  
_**Rating: **_T  
_**Author: **_MadiWillow  
_**Summary: **_He didn't mean to. It was an accident. All he did was have one drink. How was he supposed to know that this would happen?  
_**Genre:**_ Tragedy/Drama  
_**Chapter:** _One-shot_

Troy threw his head back and poured another shot of tequila down his throat. It burned as it travelled down to his stomach, but he didn't take notice. All he did was pour another shot and drain it just as fast.

He looked down at all the alcoholic beverages he'd spread out over his kitchen counter. There were around six bottles and most of them were nearly empty. How can that be? Troy asked himself. I only had three shots.

His head was swimming but he liked the feel of it. He'd never drank before, but he found himself wondering why. It was so great. It made him forget all of his problems and just live in the moment. He poured another shot of tequila and downed it quickly.

Troy rubbed his blood shot eyes, pressing down on them so hard that he saw stars. He took a deep shaking breath and tried to calm himself down. For some reason, all of this drinking couldn't completely erase his memory of earlier that night, no matter how much liquor he ingested.

He didn't want his parents to suspect anything, so he slowly put the alcohol bottles away, not noticing how loudly and messily he was doing it. He stumbled into the living room and lay down on the couch, trying to soothe his now-pounding head, swirling with painful thoughts.

"Troy, this is too much."

"I think we should take a break."

"I'm so sorry. I still love you."

Troy turned over and buried his head in a sofa pillow trying to block out the sounds of Gabriella's voice. Before he knew it, he was pleading with himself, "Stop, stop, please, just go away."

He groaned and rolled off the couch, coming crashing down to the floor. He was briefly winded, and massaged his throbbing temples. Getting up shakily, he decided to do what he always did when he was stressed – go for a drive.

Troy ambled slowly out of his house, tripping over the garden hose on his way to his car. He got in his 2001 Toyota Corolla and started the ignition. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision and slowly pulled out of the driveway.

He didn't know where he was going; he was just driving, trying to clear his head. Gabriella – what made her think that she could dump him like that? After a year of dating? What was wrong with her?

Gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes against the bright street lights, he wildly drove himself through the streets of Albuquerque, so immersed in his personal grief to notice what was going on around him. His thoughts were so wrapped around Gabriella that he was unaware of where he was.

Troy finally pulled himself out of his reverie in time to see two bright car lights right in front of his own before the head-on collision.

He rammed into the other car at full speed, with such force that his head snapped backwards painfully, narrowly avoiding a whiplash injury. The airbag exploded, protecting his body from flying out of the car.

He sat breathing deeply, suddenly feeling much more sober than he had thirty seconds ago. He thought angrily of why this stupid driver was in the wrong lane and how much his parents were going to KILL him for damaging the car.

But slowly, he came to realize that it was _he_ that was on the wrong side of the street. His heart started to beat furiously and his body became overcome with panic. Fumbling with the ignition, he restarted the car and tried reversing. To his immense relief, the car still worked, so he floored on the gas pedal and sped away from the scene.

He was sweating and breathing in gasps. He had hit a car. He had hit someone who was in the car. He had injured someone in that car. _Should I call 911_? He asked himself. However, he squashed that idea. He didn't know how it worked at the police station – what if they had caller ID and if they came upon the site with no one there, would they check up on him? See his damaged car and arrest him?

How he made it back to his house without hitting anyone else was a mystery to him, as he was still under the influence. Upon reaching his house, he bounded out of the car and inside. He leaned against the closed front door, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down. _It'll be alright,_ he told himself. _Whoever I hit is fine._

Ambling into the kitchen, he plugged in his dad's coffee maker to make himself a cup. He drank deeply from it when it was done, and felt himself sober up quickly. His head cleared, his head stopped throbbing, and the pain in his neck and back became more apparent. What also came more apparent was the fact that he'd just committed a felony: leaving the scene of the crime.

He bit his lip as he sat at the table, worry and pain reflected on his face. How was he going to get out of this? His car was dented in the front, so surely police would be able to identify his car as being involved. There must've been witnesses somewhere, seeing his car driving recklessly through the streets. They would figure out what he was drunk driving. He was going to be arrested. His future was ruined.

Troy lowered his head onto the table and started to cry softly. He _had_ to try and drink away his problems, even after all the videos they showed in Health class about what happened to people who did. He just _had_ to drive while drinking.

He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd returned home when he was startled by the phone ringing – it could've been a half hour, an hour. His heart started thumping; they knew. He reached a shaking hand towards the phone, fearing the worst as he answered. "H-hello?"

"Troy?" came the weak voice of someone on the other line. The woman's voice held grief and her voice was obstructed by thick tears. "Is-is that you?"

"Yes," said Troy, nearly breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn't the police. "What is it, Miss Montez?"

"It-it's Gabby," cried the woman.

"Gabriella?" Troy's voice was filled with concern. "What happened? Is she okay?" Even though she'd broken his heart a few hours earlier, he still cared about her.

Miss Montez took a shaky breath; her words were slurred. "She-she's been in an-an accident."

Troy's heart stopped at the mention of the word. His heart then dropped down to the pit of his stomach when he remembered that _he'd_ just been in an accident. "W-what?"

"Yes," sobbed the woman, now hysterical. While she cried relentlessly, Troy thoughts were swirling. _No. There's no way I hit Gabriella. No way. Even if I did, she's not dead._

"Is she okay?" he stammered, hoping for the best.

Miss Montez's wail of despair was answer enough. Troy collapsed onto the kitchen floor, cradling the phone to his ear as tears streamed down his cheeks. He gasped for air; his lungs felt constricted and his heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold, iron hand. His throat was on fire and his world was spinning.

"W-where is she now?"

"H-her body's at the hospital," wept Miss Montez.

Before he could stop himself, Troy asked, "Where was the crash site?"

"On Sherwood Avenue,"

Troy knew where that was, but he wasn't sure if that's where he'd been in the car accident. He'd been too drunk to know.

"I-I'll be right there, Miss Montez." He hung the phone up on the sobbing woman and curled himself into a ball, rocking back and forth. Gabriella was dead. She was gone forever. And it might've been his fault.

He slowly picked himself up from the ground, suddenly feeling like his body was too heavy for his legs. He dragged his feet to the key rack near the door and took the keys to his mom's car, not daring to drive his own.

He wasn't sure if he was all sobered up, but right now he didn't care. His life was already over.

Troy drove cautiously down to Sherwood Avenue, feeling more sick and clammy the closer he got as the scenery remained familiar to his drive earlier that night. What would he do when he found out that it had been him? Would he turn himself in? Go into hiding?

He turned the corner to Sherwood Avenue and stopped the car with a screech. He was on the same street he'd been on before. He could vaguely make out Gabriella's car, the whole front of it completely smashed in. Yellow caution tape was surrounding the area and there were around three police cars there, taking pictures and examining evidence. A small crowd had gathered around the perimeter.

Troy jumped out of his car in time to violently throw up on the curb, feeling like his intestines were spilling out as well. He heaved and heaved, clutching his stomach, until there was nothing more to come out. He coughed a little and wiped his mouth clean of vomit, shaking harder than ever. He was drenched in a cold sweat as he looked back at Gabriella's crushed car.

He slowly walked over to the caution tape, sickly mesmerized by the scene. He stared unblinkingly at the car, where he could see a pool of blood near the driver's door, and a couple spots of something pinkish littering the ground and steering wheel. A woman beside him muttered to her companion, "I saw them retreiving the girl from her car. Couldn't have been older than seventeen. Poor thing's head was completely crushed."

If Troy hadn't already thrown up, he wouldn't puked right then. Turning to the woman, he choked out, "Do-do you know if she died right away?"

The woman shook her head sadly. "I think I heard a paramedic saying that she was alive for a minute or two. Poor thing," she repeated. "She was probably in so much pain."

Troy's head was spinning again. He turned around and stumbled back into his mothers car. Sitting in the driving seat, his looked at himself in the rearview mirror. He was pale as a ghost, with cold sweat covering his face. He gulped down, his stomach writhing.

Turning the car back on, he turned and drove to the hospital. He was still in shock – _Gabriella's dead_.

He reached the hospital and dashed in the ER waiting room, where he was met with Miss Montez. Upon seeing him, she burst into loud tears and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest.

"Oh, Troy... I can't believe it... my baby, she's gone! First my husband, and now her... I-I just can't take it anymore!" she bawled. "I have no one left!"

Troy awkwardly patted her on the back, feeling as if the guilt would kill him.

Miss Montez sniffled and pulled back. "I know that she'd broken up with you earlier today, Troy... but I just want you to know that she regretted it. She was on her way to your house to ask you to go back with her." Miss Montez gave the tiniest of smiles through her tears. "She was so in love with you."

Troy's vision fogged up and he sat down in a waiting room chair, feeling dizzy. _She wanted to get back with me. She wanted to get back with me. She loved me._ he kept repeating to himself, like a broken record.

He was only vaguely aware of a police officer approaching them; he didn't even have time to panic. The officer started to talk for a while about some things that Troy couldn't process, but he tuned in when he heard the words, "...victim of a hit and run."

"A-a hit and run?" Miss Montez breathed, horrified.

"I'm afraid so," said the male officer apologetically. "We're going to do as much as we can to find the sick-o who did this."

Troy tried hard to breathe. Tears leaked from his eyes.

"This is my daughter's boyfriend, Troy," Miss Montez introduced them. Troy stood up, his legs feeling like jell-o. He and the officer shook hands.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Troy," the officer said truthfully.

Troy swallowed, his throat tight. He clamped his eyes shut and brought his hand back, saying in a voice that wasn't his own, "I did it."

There was a very pregnant pause. He opened his bleary eyes again and saw the officer staring confusedly at him; Miss Montez looked horror-stricken.

"Did what?"

Troy swallowed again, tasting salty tears. "I killed Gabriella."

Miss Montez stared, wild-eyed at Troy as she slowly sank down into a chair while the officer narrowed his eyes at Troy, placing a hand on his back, something that Troy knew from cop shows meant he was clutching his gun. "You killed her?"

Troy nodded, his expression blank. He continued in a monotonous voice, a voice he didn't recognize. "She broke up with me today so I tried to drink away my problems. I'd never drank before but I liked it. But no matter how much I drank, I couldn't get her out of my mind. So I decided to do what I usually do to clear my head – I went for a drive. I didn't even know what was happening until I hit her car." He gulped. "I freaked out and drove away. I got home and drank some coffee to sober up. Then I got a call from Miss Montez and she told me what happened." He shut his eyes tightly, but more tears leaked out nonetheless. "I went to where it was and saw it all."

There was another silence, before Miss Montez shrieked, "You bastard!" Troy opened his eyes to find her on her feet, her face holding an expression of utmost hatred, such a despised look he had never seen before on a person. As fate would have it, two more officers entered the lobby at that moment, and rushed to restrain Miss Montez. The other officer glared at Troy maliciously and removed handcuffs from his belt.

"What's your name?" he asked viciously.

"Troy Bolton,"

"Mr. Bolton, you have the right to remain silent," recited the officer of Troy's 'Miranda Rights'. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-"

"Good," Troy interrupted, feeling delusional. "I want it to be. I'm guilty. I killed Gabriella."

"Troy, how could you!?" screamed Miss Montez, still fighting against the police officers. "How could you kill my daughter?" Tears were flowing from her eyes like waterfalls, dripping into her mouth and on the floor. "You took her away from me! Why? WHY?" she sobbed.

Tears were spilling out of Troy's eyes as well. "I'm so sorry, Miss Montez," he yelled as the officer dragged him away. "Please, forgive me, Miss Montez!"

Miss Montez struggling wildly against the officers, crying harder than Troy had ever seen someone cry. "Never! I'll never forgive you!" She finally relented and stopped fighting as she sank to the ground, hiding her face in her arms as she wept. Troy lost his voice at the heart-breaking sight as his throat caught fire.

The officer roughly dragged him out of the lobby and forced him into the backseat of his squad car. He slammed the door, not checking if Troy was all the way in or not, and locked him inside. Troy threw himself down onto the seat and started to sob, his hands cuffed behind him. He was sputtering, crying, sniffling like a child who'd just scraped their knee. He sobbed into the black leather seat, his nose running but he no longer cared. He didn't care about anything. In just one night, he had ruined everything. He'd go to jail for life, he wouldn't be able to graduate high school or college, he wouldn't be able to get a basketball scholarship or play in the NBA. He might never see any of his friends again – he wouldn't blame them if they got sick at the sight of them. He would never see his room again, or his school, or any of his teachers. His surroundings for the rest of his life would be a small, gray prison cell with other murderers to keep him company. But most of all... he would never see Gabriella again.

"In just one night..." he whispered thickly to himself through his tears, before breaking down again.


End file.
